


Handling Things

by amooniesong



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Gen, Happy Ending, Hospitals, Hurt, One Shot, Pandemics, References to Depression, Techno-centric, Tubbo is mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27477088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amooniesong/pseuds/amooniesong
Summary: Technoblade felt as if he would handle the quarantines fairly well. It wasn’t as if he had been the most sociable and extroverted person before the order to remain at home, and at first he felt as if he thrived without any expectation to go outside. He could spend more time making content, maybe he’d get back into cooking, or he’d try and learn an instrument. He could have a proper sleep schedule, start exercising more, it was going to be good.And then, like all plans made with good intentions, it all fell through.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 39
Kudos: 645
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	Handling Things

Technoblade felt as if he would handle the quarantines fairly well. It wasn’t as if he had been the most sociable and extroverted person before the order to remain at home, and at first he felt as if he thrived without any expectation to go outside. He could spend more time making content, maybe he’d get back into cooking, or he’d try and learn an instrument. He could have a proper sleep schedule, start exercising more, it was going to be  _ good. _

And then, like all plans made with good intentions, it all fell through.

His parents weren’t coping as well with being cooped up indoors, they’d wanted an excuse to get out more, and with Technoblade feeling more and more comfortable inside he’d offered to let Floof stay with them for a while. Taking her out on a walk several times a day gave them an awful lot of joy - enough that it made the sacrifice worth it - but with Floof now with his parents he’d lost his only excuse to venture outside. The idea of developing a proper sleep schedule quickly disappeared as he began to grind on Hypixel, often on the server for over eighteen hours in one sitting. Getting back into cooking became a forgotten hope as his healthy breakfasts were traded for tinned foods, and eventually just for whatever sugary energy drink got him through the day. His clean shaved face became patchy with stubble - but he never showed his face, never went outside, so it didn’t matter. He couldn’t recall that last time he’d changed his bedsheets, or his pyjamas, or when his washing machine had even last been turned on.

He knew he hadn’t showered in over a month, and his hair was long enough now to be tied in a bun so he didn’t worry about grease.

It wasn’t as if he was doing this deliberately, it was simply the case of time passing. Without anything to do other than sit and play Minecraft, Technoblade didn’t bother with anything else. He threw himself into training for his duel with Dream, he dedicated dozens of hours every single week to the SMP, he streamed more, everything was going  _ well.  _

# # #

The first sign to anyone else that something was wrong came with a comment that even Technoblade didn’t notice he made at the time.

“My hands are different colours.” He said, chuckling quietly as he spoke to Phil, Wilbur, and Tommy. “The skin looks darker on my right hand than my left.”

“Are you sticking one hand out in the sun to get a tan?” Phil laughed in response. “I swear, we’ve not had a single day of sun since this fuckin’ lockdown ended.” 

“No.” Technoblade hummed to himself, licking the thumb of his left hand and rubbing at the darker patch of skin. In the background he could hear Tommy and Wilbur laughing about the air quality in California having something to do with it, but as he moved his thumb back and forth, dead skin and dirt were pushed away and he saw the normal colour of his hands beneath it.

“Oh, I think I just need to shower.” Technoblade chuckled. “I suppose it’s been a month or so.”

“A month?” Wilbur laughed. “Techno, how have you gone a month without showering? Surely you just feel sweaty and gross?”

“I guess I didn’t notice.” 

With that, the conversation moved on. No one pressed any further, with only Phil reminding Technoblade to actually have a wash before bed when he left the call.

He washed his hands, shaved his head rather than wash his hair, then went to bed.

# # #

The second time, Tubbo was on the call. He was talking about doing another cooking stream, something that Phil seemed to be encouraging. He’d been going on and on about the importance of cooking skills, and how much fun it was to be able to prepare something that tasted good. Technoblade heard something said about how preparing something healthy was satisfying, and he let out a breath.

“What’s your favourite thing to cook, Techno?”

“The hands of orphans.” He said without missing a beat, realising that only Wilbur was the right age to understand the  _ Llamas with Hats  _ reference. 

“What’s your favourite vegetable, Technoblade? I need more vegetables to add to the stew.” Tubbo said cheerfully - a happiness that Technoblade felt exhausted just listening to.

“I don’t remember the last time a vegetable passed my lips.” He replied honestly. “I think I had some mountain dew last week, that’s green, does that count?”

“That absolutely counts!” Tommy said enthusiastically. “Tubbo, you’ve got to make a stew with fizzy drinks now, it could be a challenge, we could do it together!” 

As the two youngest men came up with ideas of different awful foods and drinks to mix together as a ‘meal’, Technoblade saw a notification pop up on his discord. A private message from Phil wasn’t surprising, but given they were in the call together he assumed that anything the older wanted to say to him could have just been said verbally.

_ Phil: Don’t encourage them, they don’t need more sugar. Give them an actual vegetable to eat before they make this monstrosity. _

Oh. He supposed he was an adult, he should really be setting a better example for those two. They weren’t children, but he should still at least try, right?

“Actually, I think I had spinach for breakfast this morning.”

With sounds of disgust from the others in the voice call, Technoblade decided he’d done his job. He reached for the pringles on his desk and looked at them for a moment, letting out a sigh as he brought one to his lips. It wasn’t exactly exciting, but it was dinner all the same.

# # # 

The third time that something was noticeably wrong to his friends was when they were streaming together. They were on the SMP: there was no way in hell that Scott was going to let  _ Sleepy Bois Inc  _ team again on MCC, certainly not for the foreseeable future, and so Technoblade, Tubbo, Tommy, and Wilbur were all in one call together. Coming as no surprise to any of them or their audience, Tommy led the conversation and Tubbo followed, but Technoblade hadn’t said so much as a word.

“Techno, is everything alright?” Wilbur asked, and the man hummed for a moment before realising he should probably give a more substantial reply. There was, after all, an audience watching.

“Of course.”

“You’ve been quiet. I know Tommy’s a bit overbearing sometimes but you’ve usually got something to say.”

Technoblade considered letting the comment simmer without a reply, but as Tommy and Tubbo hadn’t immediately filled the silence he realised that they were waiting for him to say something. He swallowed, waiting another moment before he managed to find the words to say.

“I forgot.” He shrugged. “I haven’t spoken to anyone in a week or two, I guess I forgot I could talk.”

“Jesus Christ, Technoblade.” Tommy said, laughing loudly. Clearly, he thought it was a bit, and that worked just fine for him. Laughter and banter filled the call once more and any concerns about Technoblade’s statement were forgotten. Wilbur seemed to have picked up on it - he made sure to say his full name more often, forcing him into the conversation. It felt odd to speak so much after so long of being silent and alone, but Technoblade didn’t dare risk mentioning it for fear of causing his friends to worry while they were live. 

He didn’t mention it after the stream was over, either.

# # # 

“Techno, when did you last sleep?” 

“What?” 

Tommy’s question was the fourth sign - and the fact that even  _ he  _ was beginning to pick up on Technoblade’s recent inability to take care of himself seemed to suggest that it was becoming more obvious to those around him.

“When did you last go to bed? And I mean,  _ properly  _ go to bed, not just have a power nap and down a redbull kind of bed.”

“I’ll have you know that I only ever drink Monster.”

“Oh my God, you’re such a loser!” Tommy laughed. For a moment, Technoblade dared to hope that the amusement Tommy found in his reply was a signal that the conversation was over, but that didn’t seem to be the case. “Well?”

“Oh, let me see…” He tried to stall at least a little for time, tried to summon up a witty comment or a sarcastic remark, because that was what Technoblade  _ did,  _ but nothing came to mind. He was tired, he was dirty, after months of being alone and eating whatever candy bar he’d decided to buy in bulk he was utterly drained. 

“I’m not sure.” Technoblade answered truthfully. 

“Techno, that’s not good for you.” 

Tommy’s voice was quiet. He wasn’t streaming, but even when he was just in a call with his friends his personality was the same: loud, energetic, excited and funny. Hearing him so quiet was…  _ Strange.  _ It was as if he was concerned by Technoblade’s admission, but the older man couldn’t let that be the case. Tommy was younger than him - still a kid - with school and streams and  _ much  _ more important things to be worrying about than an idiot that was thousands of miles away. 

“I’ll sleep properly tonight, I’ve just been busy.”

“Okay.” 

Tommy still sounded more vulnerable than normal, and Technoblade didn’t like that. He excused himself from the call, telling Tommy that it was probably for the best that he headed to bed then so that the younger man knew he kept his promise.

He didn’t.

# # #

The fifth time Technoblade let his friends see something was wrong, he assumed it was the last time he would ever let them in. 

He was in pain. He was in more pain than he’d ever felt before, he couldn’t even begin to describe how much he hurt. Breathing hurt, moving hurt, his stomach hurt. If he curled up, he was in pain. If he tried to stretch, he was in pain. It felt like he was being stabbed in the side, but the dull ache continued around his back.

Part of him genuinely thought he was dying.

Technoblade had always wondered what dying was like, what it felt like, what he’d think of in those final moments. It turned out that what he thought of was his friends, he wanted to hear their voices one last time. 

He held his breath as he joined the call. It made the pain just a little less, a little more bearable, and as he heard three friendly voices saying his name he could muster up the strength to smile.

“Hello.” His voice was higher pitched than normal, strained, but he fought to keep himself together. “Keep talking, I just want to listen.”

Their conversation continued for a short time, Technoblade unable to follow along. Their voices were a welcome distraction from the pain, but not enough to save him from tears falling down his cheeks, not enough to keep his fists from clenching or his body from breaking out in a cold sweat as he fought to keep nausea down.

“Techno?” 

The concern in Wilbur’s voice brought Technoblade back from whatever plain of existence his mind had wandered off to, and he let out the breath he was holding in a way that made it obvious he was in pain.

“Hi--”

“What’s going on, Tech?” Phil asked, his voice a little firmer but the worry still very much there.

“S’nothin.” He realised he was slurring his words, but he didn’t have the energy to try and hide that.

“Techno, that’s bullshit, we can hear you crying.” Tommy said bluntly. “What’s going on?!”

He chuckled. So much for hiding it, so much for just listening to their conversation and taking silent comfort from them. “I think I’m dying.” He managed to eek out. “S’fine though. Had a good run.”

There was shouting after that. It was utterly indistinguishable to the man in question, just his three friends an ocean away fighting for their words to be the loudest. It didn’t matter who won, because Technoblade was in far too much pain to even have a grasp on his physical surroundings any more. All he knew was that they were shouting, and then their shouts became much quieter, and then they were gone all together.

And then everything went dark.

# # #

Opening his eyes was a strange feeling. His head felt like it might fall off his shoulders, his vision was blurry, he felt sick, but the pain was gone. He could hear again - Phil and Wilbur were talking, much more calmly than he last remembered them talking - and he forced his eyes to focus. It was a ridiculously small task, but he felt exhausted nearly immediately.

The first thing he realised was that he wasn’t at home. He was in a bright, clean, light room, and Phil and Wilbur were sat  _ opposite him. _

They were there. 

No ocean between them, just…  _ There. _

“I think this is the part where you give me an explanation.”

“Tech!” Phil cried, both men looking up and getting to their feet quickly at the sound of his voice. “Holy shit, Techno, you fuckin’ scared us!”

“Doesn’t sound like much of an explanation to me.” He muttered, closing his eyes and letting his head loll back to the side. 

“You had a gallbladder attack.” Wilbur explained. “You passed out from the pain, you had gallstones, they operated.”

“How’re you here?”

“We walked across the Atlantic.” Phil deadpanned. “I called an ambulance when you stopped responding, Wil booked flights. Tommy’s pissed we didn’t let him come, but when you’re a little more lucid we’ll video call and let him know you’re alright.”

“You should’ve said something was wrong, Techno.” Wilbur said, and Techno felt a hand slipping into his own. He smiled at that little bit of contact, realising just how much he’d missed it. “We had no idea, we’d have come sooner.”

“I was handling it just fine.”

“If you insist.” Phil said. “We’re gonna hang around for a while anyway, help you get back on track while you’re recovering. Wilbur’s on dinner duty, he’s a better cook than I could ever hope to be.” 

Even with his eyes shut, Technoblade could hear the smile on Phil’s face. Maybe he hadn’t handled the pandemic as well as he thought he could, maybe he’d struggled with mustering up the energy to do even the very basic tasks necessary to take care of himself, and maybe there needed to be a longer, more serious conversation about his self preservation at some point, but right now he was far too hopped up on pain medication to think about those sorts of things. 

His friends were with him now. They knew things weren’t right, and they were going to help fix it. 

Things would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> this is 95% a callout fic because i have done all of these things during quarantine. also, we're ignoring the need for a visa to get into the us & we're ignoring the fact that gallbladder attacks don't usually end up with someone falling unconscious. creative liberties for the sake of a little more angst :D 
> 
> as always, comments & kudos are appreciated! if you'd like to, you can follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/amooniesong) :)


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